


First Time For Everything

by Aviss



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 00:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20017609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: Afterwards, she blamed alcohol. And Loras. But mainly alcohol.In which Brienne is glad she attended the work function even when her colleagues are assholes.





	First Time For Everything

Afterwards, she blamed alcohol. And Loras. But mainly alcohol.

She was well into her fourth margarita when the games started, and Brienne couldn't find a way to get out of it that wouldn't make her life impossible at work. Whoever thought that socializing in work events was done for fun had never worked for Highgarden PLC, where every leaving do was a chance for humiliating the competition and ladder climbing, and there was more bloodshed and backstabbing at Christmas parties than in the boardroom. 

Brienne loved her job, she truly did, there weren't many companies that would have hired someone with her looks as Head of Marketing, giving her full control of her team, and she usually had the respect of both her subordinates and the other heads of department. Unfortunately, this meant she was only allowed to skip on the socializing when a personal tragedy had occurred, like that time her father was in the hospital or when her cat went missing for a week, the asshole.

"Come on," someone said, Loras by the sound of it. "It's Brienne's turn."

She shot a glare at him and found him grinning at her cheekily. This was his revenge for the campaign she had downvoted in the last meeting, she was positive, because Loras looked like the pretty boy next door, with his sweet smiles and his dimples, but in reality, he was a vindictive little bitch who enjoyed her suffering and was jealous because she was taller than him. 

"You know you're saying that out loud, right, Brienne?" Hyle Hunt asked her with an unholy amount of glee, already slurring his words. He had just lost his dare and been forced to take a whole set of jager bombs, and was listing to Brienne's side too much for comfort.

"Of course, I know. It's the truth," she said, straightening her spine and looking at Loras in the eye. She really hoped she wouldn't start blushing and give away the lie, but luckily everyone was pretty flushed already thanks to the booze. 

She missed her friends, but Sansa and Elia had got stuck in a shot out of King's Landing and were unable to make it on time, and Margaery was still on holiday, so Brienne was stuck with the bunch of guys she couldn't stand most of the time, and a couple of the girls she barely knew from Creative.

"Oh, _it is_ , and you know it," Loras said in a tone that spelled trouble for her. Brienne couldn't afford to lose her dare, not when the penance was a set of that disgusting stuff that would send her headfirst into the toilet bowl, and she couldn't leave the game in the middle, because it had been Renly's idea and it was his leaving do, and nobody could say no to him during his leaving do. Not that she had ever been able to say no to Renly.

It was also probably the reason Loras was being more of an asshole than usual; they were usually capable of being civil outside of work for Renly's sake, and leave the petty squabbles between Creative and Marketing in the office. But Loras's boyfriend was leaving and he wanted someone to be left feeling more miserable than he was. Brienne was the perfect target.

She knew, by the look on his face, that it was going to be bad, and was tempted to order the shots straight away.

"Your dare, Brienne, is to go up to the blonde man in the bar and get a kiss from him," he pointed with his head to a man who was sitting by himself in the bar, his eyes sparkling with mischief. They could only see his profile from where they were sitting, but that was more than enough to make Brienne bit down on a curse. There was no way in the Seven hells a man like that kissed Brienne, not unless he was off his head. "Or we can order your shots and save you the trip to the bar."

It was the round of snickers around their table what made Brienne stand up, shooting them her best glare, and approach the man with her spine straight and her chin up. He courage faltered when she was next to him, and instead of speaking to him she took the empty stool by his side. 

"Is this free?" she asked, suddenly remembering she was ugly and shy and never came up to good looking strangers in bars.

The man nodded, not saying anything, his head down and his eyes fixed on the tumbler in his left hand. Brienne noticed his right hand was a prosthetic, staying stiff on top of the bar. She looked at him with as much subterfuge as she could, which wasn't much, but she noticed that if he had appeared impossibly handsome in the distance, it was nothing to what he looked like this close. The man had a golden blonde mane of hair tied at the nape of his neck, wide shoulders covered in an expensive jacket and was wearing a red silk shirt under that with a couple of buttons opened at the throat. She could only see his profile, but what a profile it was: a jaw sharp enough to cut glass covered in a blonde and silver scruff that Brienne wanted to bite, perfectly sharp features and cheekbones many models would kill for. And his eyes were a deep green, like the forests up in the mountains back home in Tarth. 

"Are you satisfied with your examination?" the man turned to glare at her, and Brienne almost choked. Well, Loras was right, she could have saved herself the trip. A man like that would only laugh at her, tall and manly and ugly Brienne.

It was the thought of Loras and the rest of the group what made her speak to him, though. "Sorry, I've had a bit too much to drink, normally I'm not this rude," she apologized first because she had been brought up right. "I'm sorry to bother you, but those laughing assholes over there," she pointed with her head where her colleagues were all staring at them, "have dared me to come and try to get a kiss from you," she saw his brows climbing up his forehead, and before he opened his mouth to say that they were right, she continued. "Of course, I know what I look like and that I'm not your type, I'm nobody's type really, but I couldn't let them call me a coward on top of ugly, and concede on the dare without coming here and pretending to try. You can reject me now," she finished with, because she had learned an expected rejection somehow hurt less.

Here his brows went down, meeting in the middle in a healthy scowl he turned towards where her group was sitting, then cleared when he properly focused on Brienne. He didn't look like he was about to start laughing at her, or was disgusted by her suggestion or her presence. He looked at her appraisingly, from her straw-coloured limp hair to her mismatched and wide freckled face, her broad shoulders, flat chest, and powerful long legs. "I don't see anything wrong with you," he finally said, and Brienne had to blink rapidly, wondering if she had heard correctly. He spoke slowly, rounding his words in the careful way of people who weren't sure if they had had one too many, but were trying to pretend they hadn't, so it could be the alcohol. "And we're not related, so you _can_ be my type."

Brienne opened her mouth and then closed it again. There was no way she was touching that one with a bargepole. "Thanks, I guess."

He smiled at her, he was really unfairly handsome. "Jaime Lannister," he said, extending his left hand. 

She took it, and could feel the cold where he had been holding his glass. "Brienne Tarth."

He was looking at her in a way men rarely did, appreciative without being mocking. It was really a novel experience. "You have atypical looks," he said, and she knew it was code for ugly, but the plain way he was saying it took the sting out of the insult. "And amazing eyes. I really like your eyes."

"Thanks again." She was wrong-footed and blushing. Jaime wasn't acting the way she had expected and knew from the annoyed murmurs coming from her table, that her friends hadn't either. They had expected a quick and possibly embarrassing rejection, instead of a polite and curious stranger who might actually, against all odds, be interested. 

Jaime shot them a look. "Your friends are assholes."

"Leaving do, my friend's the guy leaving, the rest are part of his department," she admitted. 

"Still assholes," Jaime said and Brienne couldn't help her smile, big and full of crooked teeth. He didn't seem to mind and responded with one of his perfect ones. "What do you get if you win the dare?"

She must have heard him wrong. "What?"

"If you win? What do you get?"

" _A kiss from you_ ," she blurted out, because that was prize enough, and he looked charmed at her outburst. This couldn't be happening, it was clearly the alcohol. "And they all have to drink a jager bomb. If I lose, I have to drink them all."

He pulled a face that plainly reflected her feelings about the dare. "In good conscience, I can't allow you to lose," he said, and leaned a bit forward, smiling at her.

Brienne pinched herself in the arm, not as discretely as she had hoped if his low chuckle was any indication. "I'm very grateful," she said, leaning towards him a bit, her voice lower and rougher than it usually sounded. "Were you waiting for someone? I would hate to cause problems between you and someone else."

He shook his head. "Nobody that's coming, and nobody I should want to kiss," he said, something sad and resigned in his voice and expression. And oh, there was a story there Brienne didn't want to know. Because of course a man as handsome as this one came with baggage if he was willing to kiss her. "Can I kiss you, then?"

She nodded, eagerly, and he pressed his lips to hers. They were soft and warm and slightly chapped, and they startled and separated at the outraged cries coming from her table. They smiled at each other, technically this would have fulfilled the dare and she could go back to her party. She leaned forward instead, and he did as well, and this time they were properly kissing, open-mouthed and heated. She could taste the woodsy hint of expensive whiskey in his tongue and pressed harder against him, coming off her stool and standing between his legs, their entire bodies pressed together. He was a great kisser, his hand grabbing the nape of her neck while his prosthetic was around her waist, his tongue carefully mapping the interior of her mouth, his scruff tickling her face. She clutched at his expensive jacket, feeling like she would just slide to the floor if she released it, her knees strangely weak. 

From her table, there were shouts of ' _get a room_ ' and ' _what bad taste_ ' and Renly shouting louder than anyone, ' _you go, girl, get it_!'

She was feeling short of breath and overheated when they finally parted, and she looked at Jaime with wonder. "Thank you," she said, her brain stalling on something more intelligent. She had no words, it was that or _fuck me now_.

"My pleasure," he said with that same gorgeous smile, and he also sounded out of breath and like he couldn't believe what had happened. 

Brienne walked back to her table on unsteady legs, the buzz of alcohol from before completely gone under the rush of endorphins. Everyone was staring at her as if she had grown a second head, a newfound respect on the face of the girls. She smiled innocently at Loras, and said. " _Drink_." They all took their shots like the good losers they were, and just as Brienne was about to sit down, she realized what an idiot she was being. "Enjoy the rest of the night."

She turned back to the bar and took again the stool next to Jaime, who had not stopped staring at her the entire time. "Don't tell me they have dared you to something else?" he asked and Brienne shook her head. 

"No, but you're right, they're assholes." She was taking a big risk here. She'd never had a good experience with men, especially the attractive ones, and Jaime was very attractive. And not quite normal, for what he had hinted at. But maybe they could get to know each other and see if it was worth it. Or they could just go somewhere and have sex for one night. Eitherway, it was a much better way to spend the evening than drinking with her colleagues. "I have never been anyone's type."

"I've never had a healthy type." He called the waiter and ordered two new drinks. "First time for everything."

...


End file.
